


Forewarning

by schaadenfreude



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:03:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schaadenfreude/pseuds/schaadenfreude
Summary: Ignis is not fool enough to think that this treaty with the Empire is what it seems to be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> it occurred to me that it makes absolutely no sense for no one in Noct's party to know what's up. so here is a retcon.

Over time, though it was entirely his pleasure to cook meals for them all day to day, Ignis had trained Noct, Gladio and Prompto to wash the dishes. They had even started taking turns at it. In an entirely patronizing way, he was quite proud of them. He’d make adults out of them yet.

Indulgently, Ignis leaned against the wall shared by the kitchen and living room of the house. It gave him a view of Noct, who had pulled dish duty, and Gladio, who was playing some new video game in the living room. This house was the one shared by Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio; Noct’s one-bedroom was not as suitable for their regular dinner gatherings. Prompto had skipped off to his room after supper, probably to edit some of his recent photographs.

Before Ignis could say something to Noct in praise of the Prince’s dish-washing efforts, his cell phone rang. He pushed off the wall to answer it, though the unfamiliar number on the screen gave him a moment’s pause.

“This is Ignis Scientia,” he said formally into the phone.

“Ignis, you do not need to make an _appointment_ to talk to me about Kingdom business,” Marshal Cor said on the other end of the line, in a voice that was nearly exasperated. “You have the right, and the responsibility, to speak to me at any time about such things. I assume what you have to say is in regards to the upcoming treaty?”

Ignis blinked in surprise, but replied, “Yes, sir, that is correct.”

“Are you free now?”

Another dumbfounded blink. “Ah, yes. Shall I…?”

“You certainly shall. Not like I’m going anywhere tonight.” Weariness crept into the Marshal’s voice. “Come to my office whenever you’re able.” He ended the call without any further ado, leaving Ignis to stare at the homescreen.

“Who was that? Takes a lot to leave you gaping like a fish,” Gladio called, proving that the game had not taken up all of his attention.

“That… was the Marshal. Earlier today I made an appointment via his secretary to discuss some concerns of mine about the treaty. Apparently, it does not require an appointment. I’m going to speak to him now.”

“Concerns about the treaty?” Noctis asked, leaving the clean stack of dishes to dry and approaching Ignis. “What’s up with that?”

Ignis took a deep breath. “It could be nothing. I will hope that it’s nothing.” The fact that Marshal Cor had called (from his personal cell phone, since Ignis had the Marshal’s office number in his contacts) outside normal hours to discuss the topic made Ignis think that it was, in fact, something. But he did not want to say that before he knew for certain. “Perhaps the Marshal can confirm or deny it for me.”

“All right.” Noct shrugged. “I’m gonna head home. Thanks for cooking, Specs.”

“Anytime, Noct,” Ignis said fondly. “I know if I don’t feed you, you’ll eat nothing but cup noodles and fast food.”

“Cup noodles are good,” Gladio interjected. Then spat, “Shit! Stupid kraken.” A video game about squid-people who shot ink out of toy guns… it was rather silly, to Ignis’ mind, but Gladio had logged many an hour between their meetings at the Citadel and training sessions.

\-----

Marshal Cor was at his desk when Ignis entered the office. It was decorated sparsely, but Ignis could tell that the few personal items were important to the Marshal. The desk was organized; everything was not in mathematically precise stacks, but there was a clear order to it, and Cor navigated its topography without having to search over-long for anything.

“Burning the midnight oil, I see,” Ignis commented blandly as he took the seat Cor waved him into.

“Not the first time; not the last,” Cor sighed. He tucked another sheaf of paper into a stack, folded his hands, and looked at Ignis across the desk. “So. What concerns you about the treaty?”

“What doesn’t?” Ignis replied softly. Then, in a firmer tone, he began: “According to all the information our spies in the Imperial ranks have provided, Niflheim has more than enough manpower to stage a concerted attack that could take almost all of the territory they will be receiving from this treaty, according to the current terms. They also have the resources to continue this… endless series of skirmishes that has slowly eaten away at our borders for decades. They do not _need_ this treaty to take us; if they decide not to make a big push, they could simply continue to bleed Lucis dry as they have been for years.”

“Correct,” Marshal Cor said. “But this treaty would save them that effort. They have the resources to spare, but there are better uses for such things. You have heard of that strange plague of theirs? They could use the money and manpower currently being thrown as us to contain it.”

True. That had occurred to Ignis. Still, he pressed on. Cor’s voice had nothing of disagreement; the Marshal simply wanted to make all the facts clear. “If Niflheim chose to withdraw their forces and cease pressing the attack, Lucis would not pursue. Unlike them, we do not have the resources to go on the offensive. Surely they know this; if we have spies in their ranks, they have spies in ours. That is the nature of things.” Cor’s grimace told him that he was correct, and that while Cor knew some of the Imperial spies, he was not certain he knew all of them. Keeping some known spies about was more useful than getting rid of them; they could be monitored and fed misinformation. But the same was true of the Lucian spies in Niflheim. On and on the circle went…

“Their choice of bride for the Prince is… illogical,” Ignis continued when Cor remained silent. “There are many families in ruling bloodlines across the Empire that have eligible daughters. Plenty, even, in regions that Niflheim controls much more firmly than they control Tenebrae. And Lady Lunafreya abdicated her place in the Fleuret line of inheritance when she became Oracle, so her value to the lineage is… not political in nature.”

“Tenebrae and Lucis were long-established allies before Tenebrae came under Imperial control,” Cor added. “Binding the line of Caelum to the line of Fleuret almost invites them both to act against the Empire, for they have before.”

Ignis nodded. Yes, Cor did agree with him. But the Marshal also wanted to learn what Ignis had worked out for himself. This was a test to see how much Ignis knew. So he continued. “To summarize: Niflheim does not need this treaty in order to either gain Lucian territory or keep us from retaliatory action. Additionally, the terms they have proposed for the treaty are not in their best interests. So what do they _really_ gain from this proposal?”

Cor nodded intently.

Ignis paused to breathe deeply. This was where he began to extrapolate, rather than merely analyze. “They get a party of their choosing into the very heart of Insomnia. A party that could easily contain assassins, rather than diplomats. They must know as well as we do that if the King falls, so does the Wall. And if the Wall goes down…”

“So does Insomnia,” Cor finished. “And if Insomnia goes down, the Crystal and the Ring of Lucii are as good as theirs. They don’t know the true depth of the Crystal’s importance, but they _do_ know that it is an artifact of great power, and that power is wielded through the Ring.”

Whatever relief Ignis felt at having his conclusions supported by Marshal Cor was soured by the realization that they were probably right. The Empire intended to assassinate King Regis during the peace treaty negotiations. And…

“And there is not much we can do to stop it,” Ignis said bleakly. “Without the treaty, Niflheim will overtake us one way or the other. With the treaty… well, there will be no treaty. There will only be death.” His thoughts began to race, trying to find – something. A way to salvage the situation.

“That is the assumption under which we – by that I mean the King, Kingsglaive, and Crownsguard – are operating,” stated Marshal Cor with gravity. He sighed. “I am gratified and reassured to know that you’re as smart as people say you are, Ignis. The Prince is going to need you in the times ahead.”

The Prince… “If there is going to be an assassination attempt on His Majesty, then Prince Noctis will, of course, be their next primary target. If he is there when the attempt takes place…” Ignis was thinking out loud, hardly aware of his words, until Cor replied to him again.

“The Prince cannot be here. That is why Regis ensured that the wedding ceremony will take place in Altissia, and so soon after the signing of the treaty that Noctis will have to leave Insomnia several days in advance.”

Ignis’ shoulders loosened a little. Good. There would, of course, _be_ no wedding if there was an assassination attempt launched upon the King during the treaty talks, but by sending Noct out of the Crown City before the Imperial ambassadors even arrived, they could keep the Prince clear of that danger. Ignis nodded.

“Now,” Cor said, sounding once more wearied, “It was not originally my, or the King’s, intention to tell any of you about this. It won’t change anything about what must happen, and will only make leaving harder for you. But, since you are appraised of the situation, I will rely on you to ensure that the Prince is kept well out of this… treaty debacle.”

Ignis bowed his head. “Of course, Marshal.” He hesitated for a beat, but continued. “It is probably for the best if I keep this fore-knowledge to myself. Especially from Prince Noctis. He… would not abandon his father to such a fate. Not by choice.” The idea that he would have to hide this from Noct put a knot of distaste in Ignis’ stomach. It was very much a lie, and Ignis detested falsehood in any form. 

“That is wise,” Cor approved. “The King does not wish for Noctis to leave the city in ill spirits. This will be a devastating affair even without parting under such conditions.”

That, too. For a moment, Ignis felt the weight of all the grief that was to come. Then, he said, “Though I know I must keep Prince Noctis unaware, having Gladiolus’ cooperation would make it significantly easier to ensure the Prince’s safety.” If need be, Ignis would bear this burden alone; but the burden was not just in knowledge. It was also in ensuring that Noct was kept out of harm’s way, and that, if anything, was Gladio’s business. The Shield had the right to know what was to befall his charge.

Cor looked thoughtful. “Yes, it would. But how will Gladiolus react when he learns of this? I cannot say I know him well, but what I do know is that he would no more abandon _his_ father than Noctis would the King.” And there was no doubt that Clarus Amicitia would be by the King’s side until the bitter end.

“Not well,” Ignis admitted. “He would rage and argue. Eventually, I could talk him around, but he is as opposed to lying to Noctis as I am. Even more, perhaps.” He cupped his chin thoughtfully. “There is one way I can see Gladiolus accepting what we must do without any risk of him going to Noctis.” Even more than lying, Ignis detested that he was _managing_ his friends. Manipulating them. But his personal feelings were secondary to keeping Noctis safe, so he would do whatever it took. “There are two people in the city with whom Gladiolus will never argue,” Ignis continued.

Recognition lit in Cor’s eyes. “Clarus and Regis.” Ignis nodded; Cor leaned back in his chair. “I don’t think it will take much effort to convince either, or both of them, to give Gladiolus his marching orders. Their minds are one with mine and yours; the utmost priority is keeping the Prince out of Insomnia during the treaty talks. If you deem it necessary to the Prince’s safety that Gladiolus is made to understand the situation, it will be done.”

At the look of surprise that flashed across Ignis’ face, Cor’s loosened from the grim visage. “Soon, the title of King of Lucis will pass to Noctis. That will make you the King’s Advisor. You know him better than I do; you know him better than even Regis does, I think. You, Gladiolus, and Prompto Argentum. When it comes to the Prince’s safety, you are the expert. You are Noctis’ eyes and ears and even his brain when he is unable to think.”

In the abstract, he had known that. The idea had been instilled in him for many years. But now that was more than just an abstract concept, and Ignis felt the weight of that duty pressing him into the chair. After a moment, though, he rallied and sat up straight. “You’re right, Marshal. And I do think it will be advantageous to obtain Gladiolus’ cooperation.”

“Very well. I will meet you and Gladiolus back here at about this time tomorrow. Don’t tell him it’s anything but a meeting with me, though.” There was a twinkle of amusement in the Marshal’s eye as he spoke. “The harder we can hit Gladiolus, the more likely he is to shut up and listen.”

“Like father, like son, I presume,” Ignis commented.

“You have no idea.”

\-----

When presented with the idea that they were to attend a meeting with the Marshal to discuss safety plans for the trip to Altissia, Gladio was amenable. He strode with easy unconcern next to Ignis, whose stride was by contrast stiff with agitation.

“What’s up, Iggy?” Gladio inquired. He kept his voice down so as not to echo in the Citadel’s high-ceilinged corridors. “That stick up your ass get twisted on the way here?”

He knew Ignis was upset when the comment didn’t even make his friend blush. Before he had time to ask a further question, though, the door to Marshal Cor’s office ahead of them opened before they even reached it. Gladio came to an abrupt halt at the sight of his father Clarus, who stepped back from the doorway to beckon the two young men inside.

“What–”

Ignis stepped into the room and came to attention with a formal salute to King Regis, who sat in the Marshal’s office chair. Gladiolus followed suit on simple reflex; his mind was too occupied with bewilderment and a touch of anger. Ignis had his poker face on, which meant Gladio had no clue what he was thinking; but he had learned to read Ignis, and the advisor’s posture spoke less of surprise and more of anticipatory tension. He’d known this was going to happen. If Gladiolus had thought him capable of doing this as a trick, he would have been more upset, but that was not Ignis’ way. 

“At ease, gentlemen. Sit down,” the King bade them. Clarus has regained his position at the King’s left elbow, standing in the bodyguard’s pose of just a little less than full attention. Marshal Cor stood at parade rest on the King’s other side.

Ignis folded himself with not quite his usual fluidity into the chair mostly across from Cor, which left the chair across from Clarus Gladio’s only option. He took it, but with every muscle in him tense, he could only perch on the edge of the chair, ramrod straight, and try not to let his leg jump.

“I had hoped,” began the King in a voice that sounded equal parts tired and determined, “to avoid making this any harder for you all than it had to be. But in this, as in many things, it was not to be.”

“There are many hard decisions that must be made in this situation, Majesty,” said Ignis humbly when the King paused for a moment.

“Indeed,” Regis agreed. He turned still-piercing eyes to Gladio, who was flicking glances between the trio behind the desk and Ignis as if he were not certain where to aim his ire. “Gladiolus.”

“Your Highness,” said Gladio instantly, coming to attention as best he could while still seated.

“When you leave the city with my son tomorrow, do not look back. We have reason to suspect that the ambassadorial party from Niflheim intend to double-cross us, and if they do, it is likely that they will succeed.” Regis folded his hands on the desk and stared hard at the pair across it. “Noctis must be as far away from the city as you can get him in the time you have.”

Gladio looked poleaxed. After a moment, however, he gathered himself enough to ask, “With all due respect, Highness, what makes you so sure of this?”

Regis gestured to Cor to take up the narrative; Cor merely raised an eyebrow at Ignis. The intensity of Gladio’s stare (and the weight of the other eyes in the room) made Ignis adjust his glasses uncomfortably before he began. “I will make a long story short, here; if you want more detail, I will explain when we are in private. Suffice it to say that there is no real reason for the Empire to sue for peace. Given that, what else can we suspect but a trap? They desire the Crystal and the Ring of Lucii, both of which are protected by the King and the Wall. What better way to obtain both than send a party of assassins disguised as ambassadors into the Crown City? Into the Citadel itself?”

The chair arms creaked under the grip Gladio inflicted on them. “I see,” he said. “And while these Imperial assassins are allowed into the Citadel to kill anyone and everyone they please, you and I will be traipsing around the countryside with Noct like we’re on a holiday?” His voice was tight with suppressed wrath.

“Your duty,” rumbled Clarus, his eyes hard on his son, “is to your Prince and to your King. Not to question the decisions of those who know better than you do.”

Gladiolus fairly flinched with the effort it took not to explode.

“Breathe, Gladio,” Ignis murmured.

Whether out of reflex or actually taking Ignis’ advice, Gladio sucked in a couple of deep breaths. Once he had himself under control again, and even sounded almost calm, he said, “Somewhere in the short and sweet explanation you just gave, Ignis, you skipped the reason we have to be out of the city.”

But it was Regis, not Ignis, who spoke next. “You know what the prophesy foretells about the True King.”

Gladio blinked, thoroughly distracted. “Uh, yeah. I mean, yes sir, I do. ‘When Darkness veils the word, the King of Light shall come.’” He was so distracted that he did not notice Ignis’ similar expression of surprise.

“That King will be Noctis. It has to be. I must join with the other chosen Kings who have lived and died so that Noctis might ascend. To do that, he must be alive, and I have no doubts that once the Empire has taken Insomnia, they will not rest until they see him dead.” King Regis leaned forward over the desk a little bit, and there was such force to his eyes that both Gladio and Ignis sat back at the same time. “For the sake of us all, Noctis cannot be in the city when it falls. And the two of you are going to make sure of that. No matter the cost.”

“Even if you have to sit on him,” Clarus added in a deadpan. Regis burst into a fit of laughter; Cor smirked.

After a moment, the King composed himself, though a smile still lingered at the upturned corner of his mouth. “Yes, even if you have to sit on him. But I can only hope that, by preparing you for what is to come, you need not resort to such an action.”

Gladio’s focus was turned inward, thoughtful and grave. Ignis wanted to reach out, but dared not in present company. So he turned his gaze to the Marshal. “We leave tomorrow; the Imperial ambassadors are due that day or the day after. There are no significant changes that need be made to the treaty, so within another day, it should be ready to sign. By two days we should have at least reached Galdin Quay, if not already boarded for Accordo. By three, barring delays, we should reach Altissia. I don’t like the idea of us throwing ourselves so deep into Imperial territory if we expect to become targets.”

“I don’t either,” agreed the Marshal. “But that point will be moot. Our spies have reported Niflheim is closing ports all over, especially to and from Accordo. I doubt you’ll make it further than Galdin Quay before the chips are down here.”

“Close enough to regroup, but with breathing room if we need to bolt,” muttered Gladio.

“Yes.” Cor glanced at the King, then heaved a sigh. “The plan as of right now is for me to extract myself from the chaos here as soon as I can and make for Hammerhead Outpost. Once I make it – if I make it – I will get in contact with one of you. I’ll have information to pass onto Noctis by that point.”

“By that point I probably will have to sit on him,” Gladio muttered. Then, louder, “He won’t leave quietly.”

“He will if he doesn’t know,” Ignis said before anyone else could. At the way Gladio bristled, he raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really, Gladio, can you imagine trying to get him out of here if he knew what was coming? Just _sitting on him_ wouldn’t be enough. We would have to drug him and stuff him in the trunk like a hostage, for the Six’s sake.”

That image made Clarus snort and Cor smirk again, but no such amusement registered with Gladiolus. Before the hostile staring contest between Gladio and Ignis could break out into something else, Cor said, “He’s right. Noctis cannot be told until the news breaks for everyone.”

“Let him have a few more days of happiness,” added King Regis in a tone that made Gladio go still again. “The road ahead of you all will not be easy. There is much you and he will have the power to change, but not this.”

Gladiolus sat back in the chair, gripping the arms tightly. But, though Ignis saw anger in him still, there was also acceptance. He saw what had to be done and why, even if he did not like it. The part of Ignis that was frightened and in despair eased a little on seeing that. On knowing that Gladio was on his side now.

At length, Gladiolus growled, “I understand. I will do everything in my power to keep the Prince safe.”

“That was never in question,” Clarus scoffed. “Nothing has changed or will change about the plan, boy. The only difference is that you are now aware of it.”

“Right,” Gladio huffed. Ignis kicked him pointedly until he corrected himself. “I mean, yes, sir.”

A nostalgic look had stolen over the King’s face. He said, “Mind yourself, Gladiolus; you’re turning more and more into your father every day.” Both Amicitias snorted scathingly at the same time, and then exchanged half-laughing looks. Ignis failed to hide a smirk.

Cor shook his head as he stepped back a little from the desk. “All right, I think we’ve covered everything that needs to be covered. Pardon, Your Majesty, but daylight comes soon. We should all try to get some rest.”

“Yes, you’re right. Ignis, Gladiolus, you are dismissed. Take good care of my son,” said the King. He remained seated while the two young men got up, took their bows, and retreated from the office.


End file.
